garden

Dear Friends…do try your hand at the Garden Haiku, and in the meantime I will attempt to follow Mr.Mcgregor’s Daughter invitation to a meme she proposed in July. For me this is the time for this meme which asks for a recount of this years best and worst annuals.Of course I will tweak it a bit and add my surprises.Like the fact that I had some odd rogue salpiglossis which somehow wintered through and took root under a fenceline. I didn’t know they could do that- it makes me desire plenty of seed for next year, knowing that it will come through and reseed itself.

I love the look of salpiglossis- they are fantasy glass in a bloom.

Ageratum did best midsummer- and provided the much wanted periwinkle blue at the front walkway.

Reseeding bronze fennel was a triumph in all weather. It likes it here. Maybe a bit too well.

Sweet peas failed this year- which is a terrible shame because the cooler temperatures would have suited them to perfection had the seeds ever sprouted.

Lobelia either failed or struggled on through. Some years are like that. Containers always have the worst problem with lobelia for me – I should always put them in the ground. Inconsistent watering is likely my problem with that.

Yellow petunia struggled and was finally swamped by the purple vining sweet potato.

Three Revolutionary soldiers are buried in this pioneer burial place, the Beard-Green cemetery, located within Dawes arboretum. On one old grave, whose markings were long defaced by rain and other unkindnesses, grew a lone stand of scilla hispanica. I sat on the ground to photograph it; as in olden custom there were plots that were fenced with ornate iron barriers to forgetful feet. The graves for infants and children were reminders that mortality was often early for many. And surprisingly elderly ones made me wish I could ask the secret of their longevity.

The parking lot held a pretty “mead” of tiny spring flowers at the foot of an old tree, fenced off with post and rail. And I can never resist old wells… this being a particularly pretty one located next to the old spring house, which I didn’t photograph. Old fashioned living, both simpler and harder…than our own.Their complexities were in social customs, in skill sets that they considered common, while we are mystified. Leisure activities of the rich included making a rustic cabin in the woodsy part of their property- not too far from the house, but enough to pretend that their usual world was far away. It, too, had a log cabin type of spring house. Fresh berries refrigerated in a stream fed house… keeping cold milk and maybe thick cream for biscuits baked in an old fireplace oven, surrounded by wildflowers and the calls of woodland birds.

After reading Away to Garden’s post on the viewscapes (viewsheds) of the Hudson Valley, some of the questions about our landscape views… such as “Perhaps you know of some to share, or some you never want to lose?” and “Are there views you treasure (or things you want to hide)? What scenery are you borrowing as part of your individual garden pictures?” made me want to sit and consider this a bit.

The phrase I was more familiar with, “borrowing views”, was one that many of the English garden authors I loved to read would invoke. I like the thought, but I don’t depend upon it.

Life is too transitional, and one has less control than is comfortable to think about. We should try to preserve the natural pictures of beauty around us, but that is a battle. And battle strategies are beyond the scope of this post.

Instead, I can consider my own views from beyond the garden, and some that I have fallen in love with from other places.

In my own present garden I live in the midst of flatland farm fields. When farmers answered the call of America’s desire to be breadbasket of the world, the trees were cut down in multiples on land such as this. It creates a clear vista dotted with small vestiges of woods or the oasis of a few trees around a farmhouse and barns. There are times I have regretted the flat and plain look of this landscape, but then there are times I have greatly appreciated the unmarred expanse of sunsets where to the west my view is the least encumbered. (I have a neighbor near to the east.) I see rain coming from a long ways away. I have a horizon that rivals those seen by the seaside.

There are few power lines, and few houses to crowd my garden’s serenity. I can look up through trees to the sky, and outward to the fields of corn and soybeans. The vernacular style of garden here is the straightforward rows of vegetable and cutting garden flowers, but I couldn’t conform to that. Instead my garden has been a counterpoint of wild cultivation in the midst of ordered crop rows. It is wilder still in its present decayed metamorphosis. I close myself in from too much order and invite the better kept homes of strict Mennonite sensibilities to be a view through selected openings of my trees and bushes.

What do I look like to them? A rather Hillbilly gardener, I suspect…with too many random trees and yard dotted with large bushes, something like junk cars to anothers eye, I suppose. My beloved bushes and trees a jungle in the middle of nowhere! I am the city, the hills, come calling on the rural folk, and deciding to stay and make my mark. I don’t expect that my rural flatland will remain unpocked by more city and suburban encroachings… and that is a pity, really, because I have come to appreciate the peaceful and simple look and living of the rural farmlands of Ohio.

I’ve seen so much that is worth saving torn away for “progress sake” and seen that despite the protests there was little that could be done, but I am sure there are some successes… and those are worth the fight. Like Battlefields around Nashville, Tenn. , or areas that are left of Lake Erie shore (precious few of those!). The natural beauty that I saw on Maui, despite the need for development, shows that people do love and appreciate their view. One thing I loved there was the fact that the shoreline and beaches belonged to the people… and no hotels could completely block access. Here in central Ohio, the older parts had parks set aside- something present day developers don’t do. But a beautiful park adds a scene, a place to enjoy nature and receive the type of restfulness of mind that only a green space can give.

I mentioned Southern Ohio, the “Old Man’s Cave” area. The views there are of the hills and hollers all wooded and cool, with winding roads going past rustic houses and bracken covered woodland floor rising up right from the roadside.

The rivers of Ohio are a viewshed, with ghostly sycamores banding on either side of the banks. Too many are closed off by private holdings, but where openings are there to the riverside, a girl could go to read her books in the crook of a tree bending over the river. It is something we should provide for our posterity. Such a place is a library of learning that competes with marbled halls. The river going by slowly and the meditation of the time causing the mind to expand.

Standouts

There are so many ways to enjoy herb plants, that they are not for herb gardens only. Think about tucking them into the landscape, into containers or into your home. I do I enjoy thee? Oh, Herb, Let me count the ways! 10 Ways I Enjoy Herbs (and you can, too!) In companion plantings, herbs […]

Shirley poppies and Bachelor Buttons Not every garden writer alerts you to the fact that annuals can have seasons that are shorter than other choices. For places like Ohio which have hot summers, there are common annuals that only do well when our weather is cooler, such as in early summer. Those flowers sort of […]